Monday, January 25, 2010

A Memorable Fancy

The connection with games here is a stretch, but I have to put this somewhere.

If you're the TL;DR type, the point is down quite a ways. I've tried to make it stand out.

I just read yet another article explaining why the principles of science do not allow for religion. This one was particularly well thought out, and I had to really give its points some credence.

http://lesswrong.com/lw/gv/outside_the_laboratory/

So here's my own take on it: First, I would argue that dismissing prophets et al as making everything up as they go along belies a deep misunderstanding of the religious temperament. This misunderstanding is so pervasive, sometimes I think maybe what I'm doing isn't religion at all, because it has no connection to what anti-theists are talking about.

This is treading into the land of personal experience, but I don't want to prove that these things are real, I want to show you why it doesn't matter if they are real or not.

Insert here the standard disclaimer about atrocities committed in the name of religion. Your point is invalid. People commit atrocities, and they'll think up a reason without our help. This isn't about geopolitics, this is about the practical value of ritual.

There are a few things I do, games among them, that share a common thread of discipline and focus. Among the most profound of these is playing music, and that is the one I will use for my example, because that is the one that is most commonly connected with religious matters. You can substitute "play Smash Bros." or "meditate" or "Juggle" or really anything discipline-oriented in the place of "play music".

God that's a lot of preamble. The point starts here:

*** THE POINT ***

When I play music, my mind moves into a state that it does not move into under baseline circumstances. The way that I perceive the world changes dramatically, and these changes can sometimes carry over beyond the initial activity. I can't get this every time: I have to go into the activity with a certain respect and readiness.

This state is, as I understand it, essentially what is usually described as "flow" or "the zone". It's a very pleasant place to be, so much so that it re-frames the way I look at other aspects of my life. It is also a place that is fundamentally different from baseline consciousness to the degree that, as far as I know, only a ritual can prompt it.

This is all very well and good, and we're still in the realm of science. This phenomenon is decently documented, as I understand, and fairly well understood. That's fine.

This happens to be my life we're talking about, and so these events exist in conjunction with another sort of event that is similar, yet possibly unrelated. Actually, it may be a cluster of superficially similar phenomena. The uniting feature of these is a very pleasurable sense, with connotations of safety, love, and understanding. It's hard to describe, but it falls fairly well in line with what is commonly called a spiritual experience.

This is also very firmly grounded in the world of science, and understood to a degree that's good enough for me. It has something to do with seratonin, too much of it in the wrong (or right) places. That's fine, and that's testable.

This is where the third uniting phenomenon comes into play: It makes my life enjoyable to treat these phenomena as related, and caused by non-phyisical entities who love me very much. This is also testable. No, not the existence of an unseen entity who loves me very much, but the generally improved mood and more optimistic worldview that accompanies these beliefs.

Nihilism and materialism depress me to a painful degree. When I have my worst bouts of depression, I'm not sure if it's causing the nihilism or if a flash of nihilism is causing the depression. Whatever.

I know that this is not the case for many, many people. Some form of nihilism or materialism satisfies a great number of people, many of whom are probably wonderful (I haven't met many). That does not change the basic fact that I am happier in state A, and unhappier in state B. So I try to induce state B as much as possible, with the fairly certain belief that I am not actually hurting anyone by doing so. This is also testable.

Is someone who is happier as a materialist somehow a better person? That is not testable.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Three Ideas

There isn't enough room in Twitter for this thought. That's the nice thing about blogs.

Games combine several disciplines to make a unified work. Of these, only the rules are unique to game design. So what does an "artistic ruleset" look like?

Idea 1: Clockwork Universe
Inspired in part by the comic Unicorn Jelly, by Jennifer Reitz. The game-world is a complicated clockwork of moving and static parts. It is in constant motion, but always in a deterministic, mechanical, and eventually repeating way. The player is the only non-deterministic element, and even minor interaction with the system causes ripples that eventually destroy the world.

Idea 2: Strife*10
In the game "Cursor*10", the player has ten tries to get to the top of a tower, collecting as many points as they can along the way. Each try is timed, and at the end of the time limit, they go "back in time" to try again with the help of their previous try. "The Company of Myself" uses a similar mechanic.

Make this into an AOS/RTS game: The player controls a hero with certain abilities, and every time a timer runs down, they go back in time to act alongside their past self.

Feynman Variation: Instead of jumping back to the beginning, time could loop back-and-forth. At the end of a period, time reverses. Your old-self goes backwards, un-doing everything, while your new self continues on in normal time.

Idea 3: The Abstract Game
I've been thinking for some time on how to make a completely abstract game, where the rules exist as the primary means of understanding the game. This idea blossomed into a Wario-Ware sort or thing, but with more continuity, and more abstract. Rules shift over time, or based on certain actions, but with a certain narrative continuity to them.

Mozart's sonatas are a major influence of this idea, since they are completely abstract and have a definite formal structure, but they are still engaging.